


hands on/off

by peacherine



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, F/M, Non-Consensual Groping, Non-Consensual Touching, Public Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 22:12:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19777486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacherine/pseuds/peacherine
Summary: Clarke suffers silently as Bellamy gropes her right in front of everyone. She is too humiliated to ask him to stop.Until she doesn't want him to stop.





	hands on/off

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: (possible non-con) Bellamy likes publicly groping Clarke. She doesn't have to be into it.
> 
> Written for the The 100 Kink Meme 2019 Flash Round.
> 
> I changed this a little from my initial entry, which can be read [here](https://100kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/3234.html?thread=1642914#cmt1642914).

Clarke hates it when Bellamy puts his hands on her.

At first it was subtle, to the point where Clarke thought she was imagining it. Sometimes when it was just the two of them, huddled over a map in the dropship, he'd walk past her and she'd feel the brush of his hand against her, her ass or her waist. It was probably an accident, until she was sure it wasn't, or at least she thought so. She had quite a bit of moonshine at Unity Day, so she couldn't be sure if he was reaching for her behind or reaching for a hug. It was Unity Day, and there was a lot of dancing and drinking and hugging and groping done by everyone, so she couldn't trust her memory.

Until no moonshine was involved. 

She was sure of it when he has his hand resting on her ass. Just the one ass cheek. Not groping or squeezing, just letting it rest there, as if it belonged there, while they discussed defense tactics. Jasper and Monty raised their eyebrows at each other, and Finn just looked pissed off, and Clarke was so mortified she didn't know whether to turn away or face him or lean into it or run away. 

One time she was sitting at the campfire with a few other girls, munching on dinner rations as Bellamy swang around. He gave Clarke a rundown of the day's hunt, talking amicably as he usually does, resting his hand on her shoulder as if he always does, and as they spoke his fingers trailed down to cup her tits. Monroe's jaw dropped and Harper looked positively scandalized, glancing away as Bellamy squeezed and rubbed at her right breast. Clarke froze, unsure of what was happening, looking up at Bellamy as his hand skimmed across to the other breast, and just she opened her mouth to tell him to go float himself, he pinched at her nipple - and nothing but a whimper escaped from her lips, his own mouth twisting into a smirk before sliding his hand away and sauntering off. Clarke was speechless, humiliated, staring into the campfire and avoiding eye contact with anyone else.

It happened again, the next day in fact, Bellamy had just finished a rousing speech to the hundred, and she stepped in to give final orders. Just as she listed off the duties for the day, she felt it, his hand. Sliding to the dip in her waist and reaching down to the curve of her ass. She faltered in her speech, stuttering for a moment as she felt his hand fondle each buttock, as if giving appreciation where its due. Her eyes darted to Bellamy and he simply looked out to the crowd, unaffected. Clarke shifted uncomfortably, unable to defend herself, feet planted in the ground and frozen to the spot. She breathed in, breathed out, and resumed speaking to the camp, avoiding all eye contact and simply gazing out unfocused into the endless green of the forest trees, Bellamy's soft caresses to her ass unfaltering and steady, fingers tracing between each cheek, squeezing and pinching her right in front of everyone. 

It was so unlike her, to clam up and remain silent, defenseless against his groping. She could fire up and stand defiantly against grounders, Jaha, her mom. Even Bellamy, when he challenged her with words. But when he hand skimmed under her shirt, fondled her breasts, teased her from behind, pinched her ass, caressed her curves... her tongue turned to sandpaper and her mind froze up like a blank slate. 

She'd watch as the people around her gave a myriad of reactions - surprised, embarrassed, unsure where to look. Some would lick their lips, leering, waiting for more, and she felt like a piece of meat on a stick. Others would look on with interest, wondering what would happen next, how long Bellamy would keep it up, how he would rile her up, hoping Clarke would blow up in retaliation.

But she never did, and she didn't know what to do. How to react. How to tell him to stop. 

... if she wanted him to stop.

Then it happened. She was in the dropship with half a dozen or so others, prepping medical supplies, sorting herbs. That day, Bellamy approached her from behind, squeezing her ass roughly, his fingers dipping into the curve of her ass where it met her thighs, dipping towards center, pressing his fingers into her rim, finally pinching a buttcheek before circling around to face her. He smirked at her face, yet she met his eyes with defiance and annoyance. Bellamy let his eyes roam across her body, drinking her in, his eyes hovering at her thighs. She shifts on her feet, waiting, watching. He raises an eyebrow at her, brings one hand to roughly grab at her waist while the other slides down to the front of her jeans, rubbing where her thighs meet, dragging his fingers along her covered pussy. She gasps, her face inches from his, his eyes challenging her own. Her gaze faltered, looking away as her face burns with embarrassment and shame, eyes darting around the room, some of the delinquents staring at the ground while others watched on. 

He grunts, rubs at her jeans, digs a thumb against her clit while his fingers press against her wet opening. She's so, _so_ wet. God, she hopes he can't feel her heat through the denim. She feels her core shudder, gasping, jerking against his hand as he kneads at her cunt, squeezing at her covered folds before his hand slinks away. She can't move, she is rooted to the spot, her cunt pulsing, throbbing, waiting for him to continue, to touch her and tease her, to bring her to climax right there, in front of everyone. 

She moans.

For the first time, she reacts, her body kicks into gear, responding all at once. 

She reaches for Bellamy's hand, letting it slide over her breasts, her neck, up to her mouth. She licks her lips, dipping her head down to suck on his fingers, the faint scent of her musk lingering on her tongue, making her pussy drip with want. She looks up to Bellamy, his pupils blown wide, and she lets go of his fingers with a pop. (He can't take his eyes off her. His cock jerks with interest.)

She turns around and backs up, pressing her back against his chest. (The others look at each other, wondering what is happening.)

She brings her hands down to her waist, unzipping her jeans. (Miller's eyes look like they might fall out of his head.)

Bellamy grins lewdly, lowers his hand down, her saliva leaving a trail of moisture across her stomach. His wet fingers push her panties aside and slides into her drenched folds. (Raven bites her lips and crosses her legs. Squeezes her thighs. Tightly.)

His other hand reaches around, slips under her shirt, unclasps her bra. He palms at her breast, tweaks her nipple. (Some of the delinquents are red in the face and some are leaving the dropship.)

One finger enters her, then two, thick and long and thrusting in and out while his palm presses into her mound. (Shouts are heard outside, and some curious eyes peer into the ship from behind the curtain.)

Clarke moans. Writhes. Grinds her ass into his hips. Feels his cock hard against her. Arches her back, presses her chest into his hands. (Raven shifts in her seat, cups her breast, bites her lips. Finn is white as a sheet.)

Bellamy thrusts three fingers into her now, his thumb drawing circles against her clit. He releases her breast, bringing that hand to her mouth. She groans, desperate, sucking at his thumb lewdly, slides both of her hands to her exposed breasts, she's so close, she's so wet. The squelching sounds of her cunt echo in the dropship, her moans, his moans, the scent of her sex is everywhere. (Jasper leans against the back wall, palming his erection.)

He draws his hands from her mouth, grips her jaw, twists her head so that her eyes meet his. Her eyes are wild, wanting, dark. "Cum, now. Princess, cum for me." Her body convulses, shuddering, reaching her orgasm with a scream. (Raven has her hand on her clit, and Jasper makes eye-contact with her while he jacks off. Finn is.. oh, he just came in his pants.)

Clarke fucking loves it when Bellamy puts his hands on her.


End file.
